


Saturn

by xvanus



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Please don't be put off by the death it's not until the end!, it's just from that time when firestorm was going to go nuclear and wipe out central city remember, there are suicidal thoughts but they aren't acted upon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-29 12:42:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8490223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xvanus/pseuds/xvanus
Summary: 'Where,' and 'we're coming.'The two sets of scars on Martin’s arms were there to show him the way, Jefferson said. They were there to fill the void, to remind him of who he was, of who he had to help him. They were Ronald and Jefferson. They were Firestorm along with him. OrMartin Stein's grief and reflection in relation to Ronnie Raymond and Jefferson Jackson, his other halves of Firestorm, and his anchors.





	

He can still hear their screams through the flames, piercing through the darkness and ringing in his ears until it’s too much, it’s too much –

He can still hear them both inside of his head. They’re both gone, they’re both _gone_ , but he can still hear them. He hears their thoughts, their snide remarks, their sarcastic chiding – and their screams as they both fall.

He still hears Ronald and Jefferson.

\-------

Before them, he had been nothing. (Clarissa wouldn’t agree, but Martin never understood why.)

His work was his life. His projects were the sole thing that drove him onwards, day after day. He was egotistical and brash, people either mildly liked him or completely hated him – and he hated it. Clarissa was the only exception, and he found something beautiful in her. His work – the FIRESTORM project – and Clarissa were the only two things he had in his life. Without them he couldn’t function. He wasn’t a person without those two; his existence was essentially pointless without them. He was here to be a scientist and a husband and nothing more.

Then the particle accelerator explosion changed that.

It was as if suddenly all the control in his life was gone. He was a perfectionist, somewhat of a control freak; and now he had none of that.

It was Hell on Earth.

\-------

Working with Ronald was… Strange.

For the first few months of them being merged, things had been a literal Hell. He had no recollection of what had happened, a whole month of blackness swirled around his head and taunted him, and when he looked in a mirror he found a completely unfamiliar face staring back. Another person’s thoughts, feelings, memories and personality was inside his head, in a constant conflict with his own. There was no control here, no science to keep him grounded. There was only confusion and warring personalities, instinct and logic, and a striking sense of desperation to get back to their loved ones again.

To begin with, he had tried to control this other person inside his head. He exulted a force over the other that he didn’t even know he had. It wasn’t just a matter of ignoring Ronald, it was a matter of controlling him, of pushing him down and remaining dominant over him, controlling Ronald’s own body like some form of a monstrous parasite. He had never meant for anyone to get hurt. He just didn’t know what to do.

The Star Labs team had been a Godsend.

They picked up the pieces that he had all but broken up into, and then they put him back together. They brought him back to Clarissa, they healed his mind, and most importantly, they separated Ronald from him again. The separation may have been rough, and it may have almost been too late – he can still remember how cold the gun felt as he put it to his temple, he was so ready to pull the trigger – but it still worked, even with a mushroom cloud involved.

To begin with, his relationship with Ronald had been one of mutual dislike, but over time it grew to something akin of admiration towards one another.

Ronald became somewhat of an anchor for Martin. After the incident with General Wade Eiling, it was only logical that Ronald would become one. They shared a psychic link, they shared the scars hastily drawn by shaking hands, they shared everything. Their shared desire to return to Clarissa and Caitlin – their loved ones – had got them through the days after the accelerator explosion, and now it provided them with something to bond over. They weren’t like each other, but at the same time, the similarities were there. Martin could entirely trust Ronald and vice versa – it was a blissful trust that could never be broken.

And then there was the singularity.

\-------

Immediately after Ronald had gone, a void had formed in his mind. Where Ronald’s thoughts and emotions usually resided was now empty, and what took its place was grief. Clarissa was there to pull him through the breakdowns, her words soft and sweet, telling him that it will be alright, that it wasn’t his fault, that the void will be filled again… But it was never enough. Ronald had been his anchor, and now, he was gone.  

Far too much was missing.

It took a while, but he could sense things changing.

Perhaps it was the way that his thought process became steadily more sluggish. Perhaps it was the way that he could sense every shred of background radiation from nuclear power or weapons testing, which was something he could only do as Firestorm before… But something told him that things were different. Things were changing, and they were changing fast.

When he had collapsed, it was passed off as being a trivial matter. He constantly assured everyone that he was alright. He didn’t want them to worry.

They couldn’t help but worry when the fire erupted and the flames turned blue.

\-------

In all honesty, the blue flames, while being cold, had also felt familiar. It felt like there was a missing piece being restored, and despite the pain, it felt like he was whole again. Ronald’s passing had brought a complete void, and the blue flames were restoring it. It was painful, and he knew that he was dying, but he didn’t want the blue flames to be extinguished. Through black eyes he could see the past, he could see Ronald again, and he desperately didn’t want to let go of that.

All of it made him think of Ronald.

\-------

Jefferson Jackson was practically an angel sent from Heaven when he had arrived.

Jefferson had been disproving at first. He didn’t want to become one of those wild metahumans, he didn’t want to have more of his life taken away from him. Martin understood this perfectly well – he understood more than anyone else how the accelerator explosion could detract from your life. Yet Jefferson had returned, stating he wanted to be something better. He wanted to help someone.

Out of yourself and into the team, he had said.

Their merging was hasty… And yet, it felt like there was so much control to it. With Ronald there had always been something rushed, a sense of sudden power and authority, but with Jefferson… Things felt calm and collected. Careful, even. Jefferson saved Martin from complete destabilisation that day, and Martin guided Jefferson into the world of Firestorm in return.

To begin with, their relationship was… Difficult.

Working with Ronald had been difficult too, but they had been merged for so long that they had a grudging acceptance of one another and then they worked from there. With Jefferson, though, things were entirely new. There were no prior months of being stuck together as a conflicted and confused Firestorm, instead, their personality and thought processes were entirely new to one another. They didn’t have anything in common, they had nothing to bond about. Jefferson hated how egotistical Martin was, and Martin hated how Jefferson would never bloody _listen._

He caught Jefferson’s thoughts at times, his dull wondering of how things would be different if he hadn’t become the other half of Firestorm.

Martin hated hearing these thoughts.

He so desperately wanted to make things up to Jefferson. The situation was complicated for Jefferson, he knew, but what Jefferson didn’t seem to understand was that the situation was complicated for him, too. Every time they merged, it reminded him of Ronald. That part of his mind which was once inhabited by Ronald was now inhabited by Jefferson. The void was gone, but it wasn’t a friendly, familiar feeling; instead, it was something unfamiliar and new. Every time they trained, tried to practice their abilities, the flames brought guilt. He had been through this process with Ronald before, and now it _hurt_ to go through this training again.  

Gods, how he wanted Ronald back.

He often had to chastise himself for thinking thoughts like this. Martin knew that Jefferson wasn’t Ronald. He couldn’t be Ronald; they were two different people. Yet he still found himself becoming insufferably angry, overcome with guilt… Both for leading Ronald to his death, and for dragging Jefferson into this situation now too.

They needed a change. They needed to work this out.

The solution came in the form of Captain Rip Hunter and the Waverider.

\-------

Admittedly, he had been incredibly selfish when it came to becoming part of the Waverider’s crew. He had blatantly ignored Jefferson’s wishes and had bloody _drugged_ the boy to get him on board, not stopping to think about how selfish he was being. When he looked back on it, he hated what he had done. It was that controlling nature again, the horrific controlling monster who had constantly fought Ronald for ultimate control…

He vowed not to become the monster again.

\-------

Over time, their relationship steadily improved.

(But at the same time, it also seemed to go back downhill again with every mission.)

It took forever to admit it, but secretly, Martin was terrified of Jefferson getting hurt. He couldn’t stand to see him injured, he couldn’t think of him dying, he couldn’t think of losing him like he lost Ronald. He had his reasons for being controlling and argumentative and chastising. All of it was just because he wanted to protect Jefferson.

It took a while, but Jefferson came to understand this, too. They found a balance between Martin’s cautiousness and Jefferson’s eagerness to help. It took careful practice and a lot of determination, but they soon formed a way of working that suited them both. They fitted together like that last piece of the puzzle, the one that had been missing for so long. Jefferson wouldn’t replace Ronald, but over time, they would develop that same sense of trust that Ronald and Martin had shared.

Jefferson would become Martin’s anchor.

\-------

When he was being held in captivity by Dr Valentina Vostok, he realised that he had never felt more alone than ever before. He could still feel Jefferson tugging at him, his voice reaching out and trying to explain that things would be okay, but there was something terrifying about the situation that made him feel so incredibly isolated. Vostok brought back horribly powerful memories that he had tried to forget – the torture at the hands of Wade Eiling, the threat of Firestorm being turned into a weapon – and neither Jefferson nor Ronald were there to help him through that.

He had almost lost hope when he felt the familiar twinge of pain running up his arm.

Later, when he had been freed, the direness of the situation seemed to crash down upon him and he broke. Everything seemed to hit him at once.

Vostok had used him, _used him,_ and now he could hear her inside of his head. He could hear her screams, hear her frantic yelling as he forced his control over her. He had controlled her like she was a puppet on a string, he had become the monster that he had sworn to never become again-

He had controlled her and she had died.

It wasn’t his fault that she had died, no, that was going to happen because of her own misunderstanding of the nature of the Firestorm Matrix, but he still blamed himself anyway. His guilt at controlling her seemed to fuse together with her death, and he knew it was his fault, his fault that she had died, his fault that he had controlled her and forced her to die-

Jefferson was there to get him through it.

Jefferson had been there to listen, there to talk when needed, there to put a comforting hand on Martin’s shoulder and help him through the grief. Ronald wasn’t his fault, Valentina Vostok wasn’t his fault, and he promised that he wasn’t going to let Martin go through any more grief like that ever again. The two sets of scars on Martin’s arms were there to show him the way, Jefferson said. They were there to fill the void, to remind him of who he was, of who he had to help him. They were Ronald and Jefferson. They were Firestorm along with him.

Things happened so suddenly, and in an instant, it was all gone.

\-------

He had sent Jefferson back in time to reverse the process which was rapidly aging him.

It was just like Ronald all over again, but this time it was even worse – there was still a lingering feeling that Jefferson was out there, trying to get back to him, and he desperately wanted to get back to Jefferson, too. There was no way to get back to him, though, and the destabilisation was happening even faster than before.

He was so used to Jefferson being there, and it was intolerably frustrating, knowing that Jefferson was still out there somewhere and not completely gone like Ronald-

He was certain that the blue flames were going to swallow him whole.

\-------

When Jefferson had returned and they had merged once more, it was such a comforting, familiar feeling that it almost made him weep. Jefferson had felt the same way, he realised upon contemplation, and he understood one thing from then on. They could never leave one another’s sides again. He had been separated from Ronald, but this time, nothing was going to pull him and Jefferson apart. Nothing.

They fought through everything together. They had their arguments, they shared their stories, and they worked together with a perfect balance that Martin and Ronald had never achieved. Their control was perfect, and he hated to admit it, but he felt more at home with Jefferson than he ever had done with Ronald. He had never liked the violence and the power of their Firestorm. When he merged with Jefferson, things seemed so careful and calm, when they fought together it didn’t feel like violence. It was like a dance, of atoms and radiation, of fire and calculations, and they worked together in harmony.

They were constantly there for one another, too.

Jefferson was there when they had to face the Nazis in WWII, his grandmother’s stories of antisemitism haunting him. In return, he had been there to help Jefferson after he had faced the Confederates in the American Civil War. He was so _proud_ of Jefferson, of everything he had done, of everything he had become. Jefferson was better than them all, he was purer, more innocent, he saw the good in everyone and everything. He was the light that Firestorm brought.

And suddenly, in one horrible moment, the light went out.

\-------

They were falling.

The super-human villain they were facing still flew above them, smirk dangerous and predatory – a look which would forever be engraved into Martin’s mind. Jefferson had been stunned, his brain foggy and sluggish, and he was unable to keep control as they rapidly plummeted to the earth. Martin was reaching out, trying to regain control, trying to control Jefferson as the wind was rushing past their ears and the ground was growing closer, but he couldn’t.

He couldn’t control Jefferson.

This was the one person he couldn’t force his authority over.

He couldn’t be that monster again.

He couldn’t.

The ground was incredibly close and Martin realised that Jefferson was screaming, Firestorm was screaming, the sound shrill and terrifying in his ears as the ground approached and there was no way of stopping it, they couldn’t stop, this was, it, Jefferson, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry-

They unmerged upon impact.

\-------

The world was black as he slowly sat up, head spinning and blood dripping down his face – how had that gotten there? What, what happened? – and then he noticed Jefferson.

His Jefferson.

His anchor.

Jefferson’s face was angelic amongst the pool of blood that was surrounding it, eyes open and staring Heavenwards, body limp and cold.

The flame had been extinguished.

Everything had seemed to go in slow motion. Martin slowly crawled over to Jefferson, screaming ringing in his ears, wondering where the sound was coming from until he realised it was himself making the noise. The screaming turned into broken sobs, the guilt consuming him as he cradled Jefferson’s broken body in his arms, begging him, _begging_ him to come back.

He couldn’t go through this again.

He couldn’t.

Broken sobs turned into whispers. Jefferson, please. Please. Jefferson. You can’t die. You can’t. You can’t put me through this again, you can’t, this is my fault, Jefferson, please, Jefferson-

As he moved his hands to hold one of Jefferson’s own there was no familiar light engulfing them, there was no warmth of the merge. Instead there was only an icy coldness which seemed to only be there to taunt him, to tell him that Jefferson was definitely gone.

He knelt back then, arms still cradling Jefferson’s figure. The other Legends were approaching now, steps hesitant, all in shock and not sure of what to say, terrified and broken expressions on their own faces.

Jefferson Jackson was dead. And it was his fault.

The grief seemed to wash over him like an old friend, the void suddenly reappearing like it had never went away. Ronald and Jefferson were gone. His anchors were gone, oh God, they were _gone-_

Without thinking he rolled up his sleeves, carefully resting Jefferson’s head upon his knees, and stared down at the two sets of scars that seemed to glare back at him. ‘Where,’ and ‘we’re coming.’ The scars were taunting him; they were the constant reminders that Ronald and Jefferson were there to help him but now they were both gone, they were both gone and it was his fault, it was all his fault, the void was consuming him and there was nothing left –

He was screaming as the blue flames erupted and his eyes went black, a harsh, inhuman sound that didn’t belong to him at all, and there was only one thought left in his head as the blue flames engulfed him –  

Oh, Jefferson.

I’m so sorry.

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this piece is named after the song Saturn by Sleeping At Last. Thank you for reading!


End file.
